A Missed Feast
by Kastle
Summary: Strider missed the feast in LOTR, citing the excuse of Elladan and Elrohir returning with news he wanted to hear. But could those three really be serious for as long as the feast would take?


"_Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast?"_

_Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely, "Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once."-JRR Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring_

Where was Estel really? He and his brothers can never be serious for as long as a hobbit can eat, and the feast in LOTR had to have lasted at least that long

**A Missed Feast**

The sound of hoofs beating across stone echoed through the peaceful valley, causing Estel to glance up sharply. Only two elves had been gone on anything other than patrol, which wouldn't be back yet anyway. Standing quickly, he dashed to his balcony overlooking the courtyard. Just below him were two identical dark heads.

With a smile, Estel grabbed a tunic and ran down the steps, earning himself glares from passing elves who had once been his mentors.

One black haired elf even took the time to mumble, as he stepped toward the wall when he saw the whirlwind of brown curls come flying down the hall, "You'd think that by nearly ninety, one would learn to walk in the house, since it's been all but beaten into him since he was two."

Estel just grinned back at his father's friend. "Ah, but Erestor, you're life would be too boring without having to dodge pranks and running younglings."

Erestor merely shook his head and continued strolling down the hall way as Estel gained the top of the staircase. The stairs wound down into the entry hall, directly in front of the doors. Without hesitation, he hopped up on the banister and began his decent.

Unfortunately, he had not abided in the house of Elrond for many years and miscalculated how long the banister was and how much speed would be gathered. Just as the front doors opened to admit two identically tall elves, Estel flew off his rail and flew, literally, into one of the elf's arms, knocking both the elf and edain down.

"Oof, Estel, you're not as light as you were twenty years ago, so get off!" The poor elf who was pinned to the ground finally managed to shift the man off of his chest far enough that he could breathe again. Without a pause, he shifted his glare to his twin who was still standing, "And Elladan, if you don't give us a hand, you are going to be sitting on the bottom of this pile."

"Oh, but it is so much funnier to watch you from here, brother," Elladan was laughing so hard that he was doubled over, clutching his stomach, thus it was that his brothers were able to catch him unawares. The next thing he found, he was on the bottom of the heap with both Estel and the other elf on top of him.

"And you say Estel is heavy? Elrohir, for being an elf you sure weigh a lot!" Elladan still had not stopped his laughing, which was now causing him problems with the weight of his twin and Estel on him.

"What would your father say to find the two young lords of Rivendell and his adopted son on the floor of the entrance hall?" The voice cut through the air like a whip. Guiltily, the three aforementioned trouble makers turned around to face the golden haired Seneschal who stood on the stairs with one fair eyebrow raised. Glorfindel would appear formidable at anytime, but with that particular look, he looked positively terrifying.

"Up with you three, and to baths, yes even you Estel for you never seem to be clean."

"I can clean up when I choose to!" Estel sputtered with the indignity.

"Do I need to come bathe you myself, the way I did when you were but a child?" The other fair eyebrow joined the first and both looked as if they were trying to be lost in his hairline.

"Nay! I never….you didn't…"Estel's annoyance at always being treated young caused him to not even be able to form coherent sentences. Of course, if one ever listened to his brothers, they would say he was never able to.

Elladan chuckled, "Nay little brother, let us all go the bathing pools, for then we can talk."

As the three turned their backs, the elf lord on the stairs smiled. Estel, or Strider as the young hobbits liked to call him, looked less haunted with his brothers at home. As he made his way up the stairs, back toward Master Elrond's study, he could hear their laughter and wondered what they were up to.

Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel had all bathed quickly and discussed what the twins had seen in the wild. None of it was new to Estel, other than the knowledge that the Witch King had not been unmounted during the flood in the ford. Four of the Nazgul still had their mounts and searched all around at their master's bidding for the ring.

However, there was anther time for such sad tidings. There would be council in a few days that would talk of all the horrors of Middle Earth, and Estel did not yet wish to dwell on such items.

Instead, he and his brothers began relaxing in Elladan's room, after having grabbed a bottle of Mirkwood wine from the cellar. Three beings, early afternoon, and one bottle of wine tend to not mix, a fact that the three forgot. Soon, they were laughing merrily and throwing things around. They finally settled down after a pillow fight ended with one of the room's pillows accidentally landing in the fire, and a flaming pillow being thrown across the room when Estel tried to save it, because it was "too hot."

After a few hours, Estel began to curl up from the warmth caused by both the fire and the liquor. He had been wrestling and fighting with his brothers for awhile and he needed to sleep. His head slowly drooped and Elrohir finally pulled him close, letting Strider's head fall on his lap.

Elladan glanced over and smiled, while he and his twin had a high tolerance for alcohol, their adopted brother was not an elf, and no mortal could ever match and elf drink for drink, although, Estel had tried many a time only to end up with equally as many hangovers.

Estel growled as he pulled a brush through his hair, finally half taming it. With a final tug on his nice tunic, he walked out of his room and down the stairs toward the Hall of Fire. His brothers had not woken him for the feast, saying he was too cute while sleeping. That had earned them both a smack upside the head as well as an evil glare.

When Estel entered the Hall, the merry making was well in progress. Slowly he drifted over to where two small figures were sitting.

Upon greeting the two, the elder immediately began questioning him, "Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast?"

Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely, "Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once."

Unbeknownst to the man, one elf in the room noted his subtle untruth. Master Elrond, ruler of the Last Homely House stood near by with a glass in hand, his long dark hair glinting in firelight. He knew where his adopted son had been, and while he should have been at the feast, Elrond could not begrudge the child anything, for he was a child in the eyes of the elf. And a child deserved to have fun. Valor only knew the Estel Elrondion, Strider, Ranger of the North, Aragorn son of Arathorn would have time enough to be serious and formal, but for now, he could relax and be the child Elrond missed so much.

_Finis_

6


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